


inhale. exhale

by Potoo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1818913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potoo/pseuds/Potoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I hate you,” Pyp wheezes. There’s tears in his eyes and they’re not there because of the fresh bruises covering his body.</i>
</p><p>  <i>Grenn says nothing. He doesn’t know that Pyp lies.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	inhale. exhale

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally porn'd. Sorry.

Pyp takes a deep breath when he enters Grenn’s room. It’s cold at the Wall. Everyone knows that, right? It’s too cold.

“Why’re you here,” Grenn asks. It’s more of a murmur than anything else. He’s sleepy and exhausted and not in the mood for Pyp’s games.

“It’s really cold in here, you know? But in _my_ room it’s even colder,” Pyp lies before he sits down on the other boy’s bed. Grenn doesn’t protest. Pyp seems nervous, but maybe that’s the darkness playing tricks on him. When it’s dark, you can’t see the other’s face, and that makes talking difficult.

Pyp continues. “Look, I think I got frostbite.” He practically pushes his fingers at Grenn’s face. They look perfectly healthy in the dim glow of the fireplace filling a corner of Grenn’s room. “I bet you that two are going to fall off tomorrow!”

Grenn wants to tell him to shut up. Instead, he says “Three, I’ll bet.”

Pyp is shocked. His mouth forms a perplexed O. “Are you sure you can even count that far?”

“Sleep or leave,” Grenn grumbles and rolls over. He’s tired; if Pyp’s not even going to stay, he doesn’t want to listen to any of his insults. And he won’t stay, Grenn knows. He never stays.

“Is that any way to treat a guest?” Pyp asks as if he’s truly hurt by his choice of words. Grenn makes an indistinct noise.

“Fine then,” Pyp says, and then, all of a sudden, there’s a warm weight right next to him and Grenn almost chokes. He doesn’t ask what Pyp’s doing even though he wishes to. Pyp doesn’t say anything else, thankfully.

Grenn is brave and that’s why he’s able to wrap one arm around him.

They fall asleep and it’s warmer than Grenn could ever have imagined.

-

When Pyp wakes, the first thing he notices is something hard digging into his thigh. The second is a heavy weight on his shoulder. The third is a hand on his chest and the fourth is Grenn’s slow breathing. He faces the wall and Grenn is curled around his back.

He stays silent, breathes slowly and waits for Grenn to wake up.

When he does, it’s with a grunt. The arm is lifted from him and Pyp pretends he’s still asleep. Grenn sits up on the thin mattress and there’s slick noises and he grunts again and Pyp feels his own breath quickening. He doesn’t know how long he’s listening but then there’s another grunt, louder than the others and it’s followed by a heavy silence.

Pyp turns around. Grenn is looking right at him. He’s still got his cock in his right hand.

“What’s wrong with you,” Pyp asks and really means _what’s wrong with me_.

Grenn just shrugs. “You never did this?” he asks and Pyp wants to strangle him.

“I never did this with a brother in my bed.” he replies. The sarcastic tone is lost on Grenn, he knows.

Grenn shrugs again and his eyes seem to droop. “Nothing’s wrong with me,” he mutters and Pyp wonders how he can lie so easily.

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” he says because he cannot make a joke about this. There’s anger in his stomach, hot and heavy and he knows he won’t be able to eat.

The thought of Grenn curled around him doesn’t leave him that day, not for one second.

-

His bones are burning with ache and he fears they’ll be charred black soon.

-

They spar that day. Jon stays well away from them. He’s seen the look on Grenn’s face.

It’s ugly and hard. Grenn is stronger but Pyp is quicker and he dodges his blows more often than not. The fight is annoying in its futility. Both want to win but neither wants to hurt.

“Grenn, come on, let’s go eat,” Toad yells at them but Grenn doesn’t hear.

The others have left when Pyp’s fist connects with Grenn’s jaw. Pyp himself is most surprised by this and Grenn takes his chance; grabs his arm, twists it and pushes him to the ground. He’s straddling Pyp’s hips before either of them know it.

“I hate you,” Pyp wheezes. There’s tears in his eyes and they’re not there because of the fresh bruises covering his body.

Grenn says nothing. He doesn’t know that Pyp lies.

They breathe quietly and harshly.

“Sorry,” Grenn finally says when the cold starts creeping into his bones and he lets go of Pyp, and Pyp claws at his shoulders and pushes until his back hits the ground. Pyp’s covered with dirt and dust and towering over him now. Grenn thinks it’s a nice change.

He smiles at Pyp and Pyp just shakes his head, gets up and leaves.

He wants to run after Pyp and grab his hand and pull him close but he doesn’t. There is an awful lot he wants to do but doesn’t these days.

Grenn stays in the mud for a while before he can pick himself up.

-

Pyp sits next to Grenn while Grenn gobbles a stew made of unidentifiable roots and meat. He looks up from his bowl just long enough to ask, “Why do you sit with me if you hate me?” Grenn fears the answer but he can’t imagine _not_ asking the question.

“Am I not allowed to sit wherever I want, m’lord?” Pyp asks in a sing-song voice. Grenn is immediately annoyed.

“I’m not your lord,” he replies.

“But you’re acting as if you were one,” Pyp says and can feel his fingers itching. Grenn is still staring at his food and he just wants him to look at _him_ , not at the stupid stew. “Ordering people where to sit and all that.”

“I’m _asking_ you. Not ordering anything.” Grenn says and, after a pause, murmurs “I like it when you sit with me.”

“Fine, then I shall explain it to you,” Pyp says slowly and completely disregards Grenn’s last addition. “The Seven all sit together when they decide the people’s fates. But do you think the Father has much love for the Warrior? He slaughters his children after all.”

“Are you saying I slaughter your children? You don’t even have children.” Grenn points out. It feels achingly familiar to talk to Pyp like this and he doesn’t want it to end, even if they’re talking about killing children.

“You wouldn’t even manage to slaughter my children,” Pyp answers, “because I’d have a whole bunch of them. They’d swarm all over you when you tried to slaughter even _one_.”

“You wouldn’t have that many.” Grenn argues.

“Yes, I would,” Pyp says and his tone is final.

Grenn starts to eat again and Pyp watches him. There’s dirt sticking to Grenn’s hair and face, he notices and thinks he needs a bath. It’s a damned thought. When he speaks next, it’s only to block out that thought; he doesn’t _really_ want to talk.

“In my village,” Pyp says, “there’s this man, and he never hurt anyone far as I know. Had a blond beard and made beer, I think. And one day there was this septon, came to marry couples and bury the luckless. Not the regular septon. I remember our old septon. He gave out apples in winter, he was a good man. But this new one wasn’t so nice. He told the people they’d have to cut off the man’s arms as penance. Why, my father asked, and the septon detailed all the ways he’d lain with men, and with animals too. It was horrible. His arms weren’t the only thing they cut off.”

Grenn is silent for a while. Pyp stares at him and he looks so sad that Grenn wants to hit him or cling to him or both. He does neither.

“Septon Cellador is drunk all the time. He couldn’t even rip a little doll’s arms off,” he says and Pyp’s pained look dissolves to make place for a smile.

“You’re dumb. That wasn’t the point of my story.” he says and Grenn doesn’t even mind the insult because he’s saying it with a big grin on his face.

“I got the point of your story,” Grenn says, “you’re afraid.”

For once, Pyp is stunned into silence. The grin fades as rapidly as it’s arrived. He’s never considered himself extraordinarily brave, but to be called a craven just because he doesn’t–

“I’m not,” he replies lightly, “I know they won’t rip anyone’s arms off here. They didn’t with the mummers and those guys fucked everyone who was willing, men and women and both. They won’t rip off arms here either.”

“So you don’t want to?” Grenn asks. He pushes the bowl away. “You’re not afraid but you simply don’t want to lie with m- men.”

In truth, Pyp is very afraid. He’s glad Grenn believes his lies so easily. “Look,” Pyp says with a forced smile, “I won’t think badly of you if I you decide you want a pretty cow. I–”

“Shut up,” Grenn says and stands and this time, it’s he who leaves Pyp, not the other way around.

Grenn has got enough of this game and when Pyp looks after him with hurt in his eyes, he almost doesn’t care.

-

They’ve never told him just how ugly love could be.

-

“You should leave,” Grenn says and Pyp knows he’s trying to sound menacing. He stays.

“I told you it’s much too cold in my room, or have you forgotten?”

Grenn glares at him but doesn’t say another word. Any other man might have felt bad to use Grenn’s kindness like this, but Pyp can’t bring himself to care. He slips under the furs with his clothes still covering his body. Grenn is stripped down to his undergarments.

This time, there’s no heavy arm around him and no breath tickling his neck. Pyp is oddly disappointed.

When it’s dark, people’s secrets spill much more easily than in daylight, Pyp knows. You think the darkness will swallow your words and leave nothing back; but often, words spoken in the darkness are those that are never forgotten. He knows this but still feels the pull of the darkness at the tip of his tongue.

“I don’t want to sleep with someone who hates me,” Grenn mumbles, as far away from him as possible.

Pyp inches closer and touches his shoulder lightly. Grenn doesn’t shrug him off.

“I only hate you when you’re being an idiot,” Pyp says, “like now. But in your sleep you’re not.”

Grenn snorts. “You always say I’m an idiot. So you always hate me. Go away, Pyp.”

The sincerity in Grenn’s words is so agonizing that they cut down to Pyp’s bones. His face pales from the sudden pain.

“Grenn,” he says softly and that’s when Grenn shakes off his hand. Pyp draws it back as if he’s been burned.

“Grenn,” he insists, “Grenn,” and doesn’t know what else to say because Pyp _does_ hate him for what he’s doing to him, and he can’t lie, not now, “Grenn, _please._ ” The word sounds desperate and pathetic and _pained_ and Grenn instantly turns around. His hands cup Pyp’s face before either of them knows what’s happening.

They breathe and their hearts beat and Grenn’s hands are rough but careful.

Pyp mouths ‘Sorry’ (he can’t say it out loud) and Grenn mouths ‘It’s okay’ (it’s not) and that’s how they fall asleep.

-

Th e next night, Pyp is already there when Grenn goes to bed. He occupies the whole bed with his limbs spread out; his mouth is open and his eyes are closed. He’s breathing quietly.  
Grenn smiles while he slips beneath the furs. Pyp stirs slowly; his eyes flutter open and his mouth closes.

“Why’re you here?” Grenn asks. The smile is still there and he doubts it’ll leave him soon.

“My chambers are so cold you’d think a wight slept there, not me,” Pyp replies, yawning.

“Move over,” Grenn says. Pyp does.

When the last logs’ glow dies, Pyp takes Grenn’s hand. Grenn can feel him smiling when he leans forward and kisses the corner of his mouth.

The next night, Pyp is there again.

And the next and the next and the next and before they notice, a moon has passed. Pyp’s room grows colder every day, just as Grenn’s grows warmer.

They don’t stop touching. When either of them wakes in the morning hard and aching, the other takes care of him.

“I know about things,” Pyp says one night, long after the moon has risen. It’s raining outside but the thick walls of Castle Black allow no sound to sneak into their room – or out of it. “Do you?”

Grenn has only a vague idea of what he means with _things_. He shakes his head to stay on the safe side. Pyp will continue talking either way.

“Yes, well. This man, one of the mummers, I forgot his name, but he always told the best stories at night when all the girls had already gone to bed. Don’t want a girl to listen to such filth.” He pauses. “Although I’m sure Jeyne would’ve loved to hear his stories. He had better stories than every Dornishman I’ve met.” Grenn blinks, mildly confused. Pyp pauses again. “One of his stories was of how he had taken this older man. He had... oh, I’ll just show you.”

Grenn doesn’t react. He’s surprised and startled, and Pyp looks at him hesitantly. Grenn realizes he’s waiting for a reaction.  
“Oh,” he says and feels his heart beating faster, “oh. Yes. Show me.”

Pyp nods abruptly and just like that, he’s straddling Grenn’s lap. The furs are shoved back, pooling at his feet, and Grenn tentatively puts his hands on Pyp’s hips. He presses down and can feel narrow bones.

Grenn is big and almost soft beneath Pyp. He knows from experience that his hands are rough; but those hands hold swords and shields every day, and his stomach is as stout as it is well-toned. Thick brown hair covers large parts of his skin and it makes him softer still against Pyp’s skin, as if he’s riding a wild animal unclothed. Most of all though, he’s infinitely warm.

Pyp gives himself no time to think about this. If he did, he’d run away and wouldn’t dare to come back.

Grenn gasps when he takes hold of his cock. Pyp sees his eyes widening and suddenly, the urge to flee leaves him. Everything below his waist is a pool of warmth, with thighs and groins and his hand all firmly thrust together, and he moves his hand first and then his body, and Grenn actually _moans_ when he shifts his inner thigh against his cock. There’s usually nothing more than grunting when he gets him off in the mornings, and this new, unfamiliar sound makes a shiver run down his spine.

Grenn is hard by then – he’s looking at Pyp with dark eyes and red cheeks, an impressive sight – and Pyp presses his thighs together before his hand guides Grenn’s cock between them. His expression turns confused rather than aroused before Pyp squeezes his thighs together tightly and elicits another of those pleasant moans.

Involuntarily, a grin spreads on Pyp’s face. He’s had his doubts but the needy look on Grenn’s face, growing steadily more desperate, encourages him more than anything else. He moves closer to Grenn and back, and again, and faster, all the while keeping him between his legs. It’s tight and warm and a weirdly satisfying feeling to have him this close.

Grenn starts talking but Pyp stays silent all the while. “Pyp,” Grenn says. “Gods,” Grenn pants. “Faster,” Grenn groans. “Feels so good,” Grenn gasps.

When Grenn comes, it’s with the strangest sound; his head thrown back, his eyes squeezed close and his mouth wide open, a gurgled cry emerges from his throat, not unlike a dying horse’s scream. A horse. He’s bedding a damn aurochs, he is, and Grenn’s even making the right noises. That makes Pyp snort and laugh so hard he starts choking.

They stay like that for a few minutes or a few hours, Pyp isn’t sure which, but eventually he stops laughing. The sticky mess on his skin starts to dry when he leans back, exhausted, and lies down next to Grenn. Grenn is staring at the ceiling from glazed eyes and panting heavily.

“Are you a man or a horse?” Pyp asks and notices that his own breathing is ringing in his ears, so he probably shouldn’t even talk.

Grenn just grunts. Pyp looks at him and snorts yet again.

“A horse, I bet.”

“A man,” says Grenn and rolls over to cover Pyp from head to toes, one of his hands around his cock and the other right next to his head. There are no more thoughts in Pyp’s head but Grenn’s fingers, his skin, his breath, his scent, his warmth, his tongue, his lips, his– all of Grenn and–  
It doesn’t take him long.

They’re both sweaty and sticky when Grenn collapses on him.

“Ugh,” Pyp complains, “a horse. Definitely. A big fat horse on a field in the South doing nothing but eating all day.”

“’s was nice,” Grenn murmurs before he rolls over, closes his eyes and starts to snore.

Pyp stares at him, snorts a third time and goes to wash himself before he comes back, and when he does, there’s a heavy arm around him almost immediately.

It’s the first time in years he knows what a home feels like.

-

The days pass too quickly . He doesn’t think he’s been this happy before.

-

Sam is afraid and Jon is stoic and Grenn is–

Grenn will be gone.

It’s not supposed to be a short ranging, it’s dangerous and Grenn has never fought in a real fight before. The thought of the Great Ranging frightens Pyp more than Sam, he’s certain, and he doesn’t even ride with them.

It’s snowing lightly. Jon is already with Mormont at the head of the trail and Sam is somewhere with the ravens. It’s the last time for a long while he’ll see Grenn’s stupid face.

Grenn just smiles at him while Pyp talks about a thousand insignificant things.

“I have to go,” he says when almost every other ranger has already mounted and left, “I’ll miss you.”

There’s people around them; the occasional ranger and stewards and builders, bidding their friends goodbye and busy with their tasks.

Snowflakes are catching in Grenn’s beard. Pyp may be very frightened, but he also feels very brave in that moment.

He takes a deep, deep breath.

Then he stands on his toes to press their mouths together. Grenn’s lips are rough and chapped and taste like a summer night.

“You’ll be left behind if you don’t go _right now_ ,” he advises. Grenn looks at him from warm eyes as he mounts his horse.

While Grenn and the others are on the Great Ranging, Pyp stays behind. He peels onions and cuts turnips and kneads dough. His body aches all over and he doesn’t know why. (He knows why.)

He feels like he can’t breathe, not with Grenn missing.

One blows means rangers returning and it has been many days, too many days, but one freezing morning Pyp spots a huge man with broad shoulders and light hair outside.

Grenn smiles at him.

Pyp breathes out.


End file.
